Victory March
by KatyaChekov
Summary: Lithuania and Poland let off some steam after the Battle of Tannenberg, in the form of impatient sex.


**Victory March**

"We won!" "Glory to Grunwald!" "Victory! Victory!"

Amongst the loud cries, two men in particular shouted the loudest, laughing, crying without caring. They had kept him out. Together, they had beaten the ferocious albino back. They hugged each other tightly, the sharp unworn edges of the Lithuanian's cross digging into their chests. They didn't care about that either, just the dizzying thrill of victory.

"Liet, you were, like, totally awesome!"

The brunet grinned, shaking out his hair. They were both still covered in blood and dirt and battle-grime and aching wounds…but damn if they didn't feel fantastic about it.

"But, you know, you had me, like, worried for a sec there. Totally heart-pounding when I thought that guy'd kill me." He punched Toris good-naturedly in the shoulder. "I, like, thought you'd forgotten about me!"

"How could I do that?" Toris responded, chuckling. "You're my best friend! Besides," he teased, "I would have been next anyway. I had to make sure that didn't happen."

Feliks gasped. "Liet, that's terrible!"

"I'm joking. Really!" He hugged the blond again, more gently this time. "_Aš kalbu tiesą_." I'm telling the truth.

Feliks nuzzled Toris under his chin. "You, like, sure about that?"

"Of course I am." Toris kissed him on the forehead. "I could never let you die."

"I wouldn't, like, stay down anyway." Feliks grinned. "I'm a phoenix, remember?"

"I can see your wings." The brunet tugged lightly on the wings attached to Feliks' armor. Somehow the blond had managed to keep them on during the whole battle. "And I can see your fiery aura…"

Feliks wriggled in his seat a little. "…Hey, Liet?"

"Yes?"

"C'mere and, like, get your reward for saving me." Feliks grabbed Toris' shirt, yanking him down into a fierce kiss. Toris responded eagerly, his tongue invading Feliks' mouth as violently as he had fought that day.

For several dizzying moments, they stood there, clinging tightly to each other, fighting for dominance before Feliks happily surrendered, letting his friend take his plunder. When they finally broke away, gasping, Feliks noticed the blush creeping over Toris' cheeks.

"So, like, you gonna let me undress you or what?"

His blush deepened. "What, _now_? In the middle of a battlefield?"

Feliks snorted. "It's not like we're going anywhere for the next couple of days, Liet. And I need you." He kissed Toris again, smashing their lips together eagerly as his slim fingers surreptitiously started undoing the lacings of the taller nation's armor. "Like, _now_."

"Glad I'm not the only one, then," Toris managed.

His hands were broader, rougher than Feliks', and were less subtle about removing armor. Farmer's hands, fighter's hands, not a noble's. Feliks gasped as they slid under his shirt, armor clanging to the ground as rough calluses grazed over his skin. Toris' armor was a tad more complicated to get loose and slide off. The brunet was too impatient to take his wrist guards off…or his shirt, apparently. Feliks found himself being pushed onto his back, neither of them noticing the rough dirt and trampled grass and still-wet blood; it wouldn't have made a difference anyway.

"It's been a while since we've done this. Especially outside."

"We're, like, in a tent, Liet." Feliks rolled his eyes.

"I know." He divested the both of them of their pants, tossing them carelessly on top of the armor. "I was just wondering where we could…"

Feliks shut him up by covering his mouth. "Oh God, just, like, stop _talking_ already!"

He nodded, pulling the blond's hand away from his mouth to kiss the inside of his wrist. His tongue flicked out to taste the skin, and Feliks giggled. "Tickles…"

Toris didn't respond, just glanced around for something, anything. Neither of them could wait very long and he knew it… A sharp sting in his thigh gave him the answer.

"Eww, Liet… You're, like, not really gonna use your own blood, are you?"

He shrugged. "I don't want to hurt you."

Feliks didn't have a chance to retort before Toris pushed inside of him. It _had_ been a long time…in fact it kind of hurt a little, but he welcomed the rough pleasure of being filled.

"G-God, Liet, you're so big, I'd, like, forgotten…nng…" He buried his face in Toris' shoulder, clutching at his broad shoulders like a lifeline, relaxing himself as much as he could, wrapping his legs around his waist so he could get deeper and suddenly he was _all the way in_... "L-Liet!"

Toris gasped in response, trembling. "J-just tell me wh-when…"

"Just _move_!" Why was he hesitating? He didn't care about pain, not when his body was singing, begging, _screaming_ for Liet to just take him!

And then he started thrusting, and Feliks sobbed, half in pain, half in relief, half in utter heaven, his hips jerking back in response, driving Toris as deep as he could go each and every time, his huge cock brushing, no, not brushing, not rubbing, but _striking_ his prostate each and every time, sending shudders through him, and that rough, warm hand stroking him in a shaky but firm counterpart to their bodies slamming into each other so hard Feliks could swear they were melting together…their blood and sweat and breath mingling and running together…he knew they were both making a lot of noise, too, their grunts and moans and wild cries, but he couldn't hear them anymore as his climax washed over him, taking Toris with him as they peaked together, their voices rising in a wild cry…

Slowly, awareness returned to find them a pile of tangled limbs, filthy and battered and utterly exhausted and smiling for all they were worth. Feliks knew he was going to hurt in the morning, but right now…right now he just didn't care. That, like everything else in the world, could wait. Right now he had Toris wrapped around him, drifting off to sleep. And that was all he really needed.

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**I don't own Hetalia. I just enjoy learning and teaching history via porn. Second part for the Secret Santa exchange on LJ.  
**


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